


Now You're Mine

by Pondermoniums



Series: Harringrove Ficlets [3]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: A sprinkling of smut, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Baking, Billy Hargrove Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove Is Bad at Feelings, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Holidays, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Post-Season/Series 02, Romantic Fluff, Roughhousing, Scents & Smells, Soul Bond, Steve Harrington is a Witch, Witchcraft, king steve, matching injuries, soul mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:08:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28114395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pondermoniums/pseuds/Pondermoniums
Summary: There's witchcraft in Hawkins, and Billy finds out the hard way. It takes a lot of hits on Steve Harrington for Billy to realize that whatever he does to Steve, is reflected on his own skin. And vice versa. Now Billy has a lot to catch up on, all while coming to terms with the fact that a soul bond is woven between the two kings of Hawkins.But with every injury they inflict on one another, every blessing is shared too. So it might not be the worst thing, to be partnered with a king.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Series: Harringrove Ficlets [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2058345
Comments: 20
Kudos: 107
Collections: Harringrove Holiday Exchange 2020





	Now You're Mine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [teethandstars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/teethandstars/gifts).



> Woah. This REALLY got away from me lol "1000 word minimum?" We don't know her.
> 
> There is mention of period-typical homophobia (and use of the word q*eer) but it's not super internalized because I canNOT be bothered. It's the holidays, they're gay, and it's my unwavering FAVORITE trope that Billy pushes into Steve's life, only to be utterly unprepared for how much love there is to catch him.
> 
> So...enjoy?

It was one thing to sit next to Billy Hargrove over breakfast, but it was completely another to sit with Billy in Steve’s own house while his mother explained _soul mates_ to them.

Billy looked a little bit sick. Steve couldn’t even blame him for that. One minute, Steve’s trying to keep the kids from diving into death in the Upside-Down tunnels. The next, he’s lying on the Byers’ floor with Billy staring horrified at him with blood dripping down from his eyebrow.

The same eyebrow on _Steve_ to which he was holding ice now.

Then there was the whole explanation. _Yeah, we’re sitting on a flimsy, plastic-wrap layer of reality, and there’s a whole soup of fuckery underneath us that’s poking holes in the plastic_.

Billy’s mind just kept reeling when Joyce Byers came home with her incredibly sweaty sons and an equally soaked Nancy Wheeler. The latter’s mouth had opened, ready to greet Steve, but her eyes flicked to Billy, and her jaw dropped. Jonathan carried Will to the bathroom, oblivious to the women staring Billy and Steve down. Finally, Joyce’s shock melted into something far too much like glee. She told Steve, “I think you should talk to your mom, honey. Take _him_ with you.”

Billy had stood from the other end of the couch in a huff. “I only came here to get my step-sister—”

“I’ll take her home after I wash up,” Joyce promised, but Billy shook his head.

“No. I have to be the one who takes her.”

The room went quiet, the pack of kids beadily watching things like birds on a telephone wire. For some reason, bearing matching wounds to Steve and witnessing a dog monster fall out of the fridge hadn’t been enough to make Billy Hargrove go pale. Joyce assuring, “I’ll talk to your parents. Don’t you worry,” sure did, though.

So now they both held dishtowels full of ice to their faces while Mrs. Harrington tapped her manicured nails against her jaw. Billy couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe he actually drove behind Steve to his pampered-ass neighborhood, followed him into his petite mansion of a house, and actually watched his mother greet them in her silk robe as Steve set his _nailed bat_ against the table.

Moving to Hawkins, Indiana had always been a punishment specifically for Billy, but this was really absurd.

While Mrs. Harrington stirred her early morning, loose leaf tea around and around a glass kettle, Billy declared, “Listen, I don’t need some housewife explaining fairytale crap—”

Steve shoved his head, hard. “That’s my mom, asshole.”

Billy practically growled as he leaned in close. “And she already knows I prettied your face up. I’ll do it again.”

The woman herself crooned, “Yes, because apparently it took a _plate_ , and nearly beating my son unconscious for you to notice that what you do to him, is also done to you. This is rather exciting; it’s not everyday old magic crops up.”

Both young men stared at her. Steve broke the silence with a loaded, “ _Mom_.”

Billy peered between them, but as far as he could read, Mrs. Harrington seemed unbothered by whatever nonverbal dialogue Steve was sending her. “What am I not getting here?”

Steve leaned back in his seat at the kitchen table. It was surprisingly small for such a house, but Billy guessed they had a proper dining room somewhere. Mrs. Harrington sat opposite them, pouring amber-red tea into three cups. She rotated to retrieve a sugar dish off the breakfast bar. The gold, organic, and expensive kind. Of course it is. Billy watched Steve scoop two spoonfuls with practiced quickness before tasting his own tea and doing the same.

“Where are you from, Billy?” Mrs. Harrington asked.

Billy didn’t see the significance of such a question but then again, he stood out in this rural, suburban crapshoot of a town. “Southern California.”

“Ah, makes sense. Beautiful place, but too much industrial movement to allow one to soak in the metaphysical.”

Billy’s eyes widened somewhat. He never expected the Harrington matriarch to be a spacy hippie. She must have read this on his face because she smiled and said, “Fairytales are the original horror stories. Did you know that?”

Billy felt Steve’s eyes on him and ventured a glance. He didn’t expect to see something a lot like…Jesus, Billy didn’t know what it was, but this sounded like a serious conversation instead of a joke.

And as far as Steve was concerned, it may have been the first time he’d ever seen Billy at a loss for words. They both settled into the silence, sipping their tea.

Mrs. Harrington switched gears by asking Steve, “Did she serve you well?”

 _Nancy?_ Billy wondered silently, but that seemed a bizarre way to talk about her son’s ex-girlfriend. Steve sighed, placing his ice pack on the table. “As well as the first time. But ash and iron swung hard enough can take anything out, so…”

“You remember I said she chose you.”

Steve leaned over the table with open hands gesturing while he spoke. “I picked it up because Jonathan dropped it. It’s really Jonathan’s.”

“You’re the one who has wielded it, and you’re the one who’s kept it,” she said like she was winning some kind of argument. “Why’d you keep it?”

Steve fidgeted over a corner of his dishtowel. He answered quietly, “I don’t like guns.”

Billy intercepted, “ _What_ are we talking about?”

Steve shifted his weight. “My bat.”

The former could only shake his head incredulously. “Like, what, it’s a car?”

Steve lifted the icepack to his face again, if nothing else than to avoid looking at him. “ _Mom_ ,” he repeated.

She chuckled over her cup. “I don’t decide these things, sweetheart. You two are cut from the same cloth, so to speak. That is how you are connected. It’s something to celebrate, not dread.”

“You don’t know him,” Steve countered.

“You barely do either,” Billy remarked.

Steve sent him a frustrated glare and continued, “And how are you able to say that when my face looks like this?”

“The only thing keeping Billy looking as pretty as he does is the fact that he’s soul bonded to you. But it does remain his decision whether to keep his fists and dishware to himself from here on out.”

Mrs. Harrington smiled at him, and Billy didn’t think it was nice at all. “Am I the only one calling bullshit on how two men are soul bond— _whatever_?”

Mrs. Harrington chuffed like a horse, thoroughly knocking his composure onto the floor.

“He just learned about the Upside-Down a few hours ago,” Steve grumbled. “There’s a lot happening right now.”

“Yes! How’d that go?” she exhaled on a wistful yet solemn note. She rested her chin on her hand.

Billy rubbed as much of his forehead that wasn’t blocked with ice and murmured, “Hell’s wrong with this town…”

Steve erupted, “It’s a revolving door for another dimension, obviously! Keep up.”

“And the universe is telling us to be gay? Is that what I’m supposed to understand?”

“You’re allowed to like both,” Mrs. Harrington chimed like it was obvious.

Billy leaned away from both of them. He waved a vague gesture at Steve, “You can be as queer as you want to, but—”

“Oh, thanks,” Steve chirped flatly.

“But not in my family.”

“You don’t have to be a part of that family,” said Mrs. Harrington.

Both young men stared at her and shot wary looks at each other when they both exclaimed, “ _What?_ ”

Her amused gaze moved between them while she loosely interlaced her fingers in front of her elegant smirk. “Witch laws are far more fluid and accommodating than hetero-normative, Caucasian legislation—”

“Oh my god, _mom_ ,” Steve begged, rubbing his temples. Billy just tried to keep up.

“What did you say?”

“He’s not ready!”

But she continued, “Old magic comes first. That is not up for discussion or neglect. It makes itself known and expects to be obeyed.”

“ _Obey_ and _Billy Hargrove_ do not go in the same sentence,” Steve fumed.

“Huh, you do know me a little bit, Harrington. Did you say _witch_ laws?”

“I did,” she trilled, “although they are more like guidelines. Excluding something like this, of course. You are meant to be in each other’s lives. How you do that is up to you, I supposed…but how boring.”

“Jesus god.” Steve hid under his hands and hair.

Billy chose not to scrutinize how red Steve’s throat had gotten, and instead declared, “If a flower-faced, dog thing hadn’t interrupted my night, I would write all of you off as insane.”

Steve emerged to cradle his cheeks but his mother rebuked, “That’s rather unkind. Mental illness is a serious ordeal and as natural as any virus. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Witchcraft isn’t real!” Billy erupted, angrily lifting his cup to finish his damn drink and get the hell out of here.

“Really? Why is your tea turning blue?”

He spit a little bit in his haste to set his cup down…which held the same amber-red tea as before.

“Mom,” Steve chided, but now he just sounded tired.

She smiled a little apologetically at Billy, but it was clear who made Steve a brat.

* * *

“Hey, uh, listen,” Steve called as he caught up with Billy on his driveway.

“You’re not walking me to my car,” the latter challenged.

“Just—Just listen a sec,” he pleaded distractedly. Billy followed his gaze to a neighbor’s car driving by. Steve waved to them and stuffed his hands into his jean pockets. “Um.”

“Second’s over.” Billy unlocked his car, but Steve tapped his elbow instead of outright grabbing him.

“Would you just hold on? I get it, alright? It’s all a lot, but I’m—I’m not expecting anything from you.”

Billy faced him suddenly, causing Steve to lurch back a little. Billy smiled menacingly. “Expecting?”

But Steve planted his feet. “Shut up. It’s almost six a.m. and we’re both done with all this, but we need something normal here.”

“And what is normal for you? Burning incense while listening to Stevie Nicks?”

Steve’s mouth gaped like a fish while he moved his weight again. _Why does this guy wiggle so much?_

“First of all, ‘Edge of Seventeen’ is a bop—”

“A bop?” Billy guffawed. “I didn’t realize this was a 1950s soda parlor.”

“Secondly! I prefer candles. Buy me one for Yule—Christmas? Christmas. Are you Jewish?”

“No, I’m not Jewish! I’m not buying you shit for anything.”

“I prefer natural scents but I’m not opposed to the odd Gingerbread scent now and again.”

“I am not buy—This isn’t going anywhere!” Billy exclaimed with an incredulous, and downright terrified laugh. “You want the whole town calling us…”

Billy didn’t want to say it. He heard it enough without it coming out of his own mouth, but his silence erased Steve’s consternation. Something else seemed to dissolve between them; something large and heavy. Billy sighed, “Why are you talking about Christmas?”

Hands once more in his pockets, Steve shrugged. “It’s our biggest holiday outside of, um. Hallow’s Eve—Halloween.”

Billy rolled his eyes. “Just say your name for it.”

A shy, little smile twitched on Steve’s mouth. “Mom says Samhain but I like Hallow’s Eve. Has more of a…I don’t know. Excitement to it.” He heaved a sigh and scraped the sole of his shoe over the concrete. “But that was a shitty day, so…I want to enjoy the next one. You know you’re already invited.”

Billy’s eyelashes lowered, his gaze narrowing. “To what, exactly?”

It was Steve’s turn for his eyes to loll in their sockets. “We don’t gather naked under the moon or any weird stuff like that.”

“Oh? Then my answer’s no.”

An annoyed breath burst out of Steve, which tumbled right into laughter. It was…nice, seeing the angular, king features bunching up into chubbier happiness. Billy felt a smile of his own creeping onto his face before a snake coiled in his stomach. As Steve’s laughter began to fade, he cradled his cheeks. “God, my face hurts.”

Billy came right out and asked, “Do you like guys?”

Steve peeked up at him, his hands slowly lowering. “Not openly, before…well. I do recall trying to kiss everyone in kindergarten. The teacher called my parents and made a big thing out of it. Mom thought it was hilarious. Dad didn’t.”

“Yeah.” Billy shifted his weight to lean his hip against his car. “Mine wouldn’t either.”

He moved his keys round and around between his fingers, feeling Steve’s eyes on him before he said, “I mean it. You don’t owe me anything. I’m not asking you to be _out_ or—whatever.”

Billy clenched his jaw, moved his tongue around, and spat far enough for it to land in the grass. “Never thought supernatural queerness would out me.”

Steve made a sound of understanding. “If it’s any consolation, nearly dying a few times makes the bullshit here a little easier to deal with.”

“Speak for yourself,” Billy returned quietly.

Silence began to settle over them, but Steve stood a little straighter, fearing that the longer he waited, the faster Billy would sprint out of the neighborhood. “Are we not going to talk about how you helped the others kidnap me to the tunnels?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I blacked out.”

“Okay,” he scoffed. “Well, I’ll be the bigger person and say…thanks. For helping us. But don’t beat me up anymore.”

Billy moved the skin of his elbow around while he considered that. “Don’t be a creep and lie to me.”

Steve avoided his gaze. “Fair, I guess. Don’t be a dick in basketball.”

“Get better, then.”

“You play dirty.”

“I play to win. Get better.”

“It’s _gym class_ ,” Steve balked.

Billy opened his car door as he taunted, “What? King Steve can’t be bothered?”

Steve scrubbed a hand over his face and waved him off. “Jesus, get outta here.”

For the first time, Billy came very close to obeying, if he hadn’t already been halfway into his car.

* * *

The second time, however, came when he was halfway out of it. He’d been sent with Max on some errand—he made sure she knew to handle it—but before he could lean against his car and dig for his cigarettes, he recognized the group of kids across the street. And right in the middle of them, sitting on the sheriff’s tailgate, was Steve with his feet dangling over the asphalt.

Hopper stood beside his car, one arm propped on it while the other gestured among them. Steve was looking at the ground, but he nodded like they were being lectured about something—

“MAX! Hey, Max!”

All heads turned in their direction. She slammed her car door and voiced over the roof, “I think that applies to you too.”

Billy sighed and jabbed a finger over the lock trigger on his door before shutting it behind him. As he and Max walked over Main Street, Steve gave no reaction other than lifting his head. Billy then saw that a girl sat next to him; no older than Max, but she could’ve been Steve’s sister with her dark brown hair. But her features were round compared to his sharper ones.

Once they joined everyone else, a beat of silence got cut short by Max greeting, “Hi, El.”

Her spine straightened a little at the acknowledgment. “Hey.”

Billy might’ve said something sharp like, _Riveting_ , or looked to the sky for a raindrop of patience. Instead, he had to deal with Steve’s leg shooting out to kick the curly-haired kid’s leg. Like a piñata, giggles burst out of him before he managed to stifle them. Billy realized all the kids were staring between him and Steve.

He’d completely forgotten that they _knew_.

Hopper intercepted their attention. “I’m not surprised the two of you got dragged into this. Everyone here is a magnet for mayhem, but from here on out, it’s not rocket science. What happened stays between the people _right here_. Understand?”

“We’ve already been through this, Hopper,” Dustin both complained and scolded. “And I doubt Max is the type to snitch. Billy’s got other things to occupy his mind—”

“Dustin,” Steve intervened. “What did I say on the train tracks?”

“A lot of stuff,” he shook his head vacantly.

“I said your ass is grass if you tell anyone.”

“Yeah, but that was about your—”

“Ass. Grass. Henderson.”

“Fine! Don’t get your _hair_ in a knot.”

“ _Moving along,_ ” Hopper drawled. “Upside-Down stuff or not, that sentiment applies. You don’t get to tell anyone about this. Not even for a creative writing assignment. Got it?”

“Yeah,” came Max.

Billy shrugged and sighed, “Sure thing.”

Hopper peered between them. “You’re both taking this…rather well. You got any questions? Or have all of these megaphones filled you in?”

He pointed around the circle at Mike, Lucas, and Dustin. Max replied for her and Billy, “Megaphones.”

The latter, however, shifted his weight a little. Frankly, the less he knew the better, as far as he felt about it. But as he locked onto the girl next to Steve, he couldn’t help but ask, “It’s true about you?”

El looked up at him for a silent minute, and then her eyes slid to something past him.

The Camaro started screaming across the street, alarm, horn, and lights making passersby jump. Billy almost took off across the street, but thought better of it and turned back to her. “That’s enough!”

His car went silent, to be replaced with Steve scoffing mildly, “Take it easy, man. She’s saved the world twice.”

“She can save it or wreck it, so long as she keeps her brain off my car.”

“I don’t see how you drive with that pinecone stuck up your ass.”

“Turns out, you would know, wouldn’t you?”

Hopper’s eyes moved between them before he cut off, “Do I wanna know what’s going on here?”

“It’s not important,” Billy refused.

“Hey!” Dustin erupted. “You don’t get to be a dick just because you got surprised. The universe doesn’t revolve around you—”

“Yeah, no shit,” Billy curtailed gruffly.

“ _Why are_ you being a dick, though? Literally your most _important_ person landed in your lap—”

“Alright, buddy.” Steve hopped down from the truck bed and turned Dustin around by his backpack.

“Do you realize how statistically improbable that is?”

“ _We’re going to the car now_.” Steve hauled Dustin away like his backpack was a very short leash.

“You’re so damn lucky statistics always leaves a chance for the impossible!”

As Steve all but threw the kid into his car, he murmured, “I think you’ve made your point to the whole town.”

Steve circled his car to get in the driver’s seat, focusing on backing out of the sheriff station parking lot without earning a ticket in the process. He could feel Dustin’s gaze before the kid said, “That asshole shouldn’t have said it.”

“It’s okay, buddy,” Steve tried to soothe, but Dustin pivoted to fully face him.

“He said you weren’t important!”

“Dustin! The world went to shit and snapped back into place like a rubber band, all right? Everything seems to happen freakishly fast, and frankly, it’s a surprise it took one of us this long to slam on the brakes.”

“He’s not one of us if he acts like that,” Dustin settled back in his seat.

Steve glanced at him, and then at his own purplish-green bruises in the rearview mirror. “Listen, it’s cool of you to stand up for me. Especially after the introduction Billy gave. But all of us need that night to blow over.”

They drove in silence for a while. Steve could feel Dustin’s brain moving like it always is, but he waited and let the kid speak when it came. “You may have lost the fight, but you stood back up to lead us in the tunnels. Even Billy backed down for that. You were awesome, and if his head is too far up his own ass to see it, then he doesn’t deserve yours.”

Steve blinked wide eyes at the road. “Uh. Thanks? Let’s agree to never discuss my ass again, though. Okay?”

“Okay,” Dustin nodded like it was a sacred pact.

* * *

Everyone seemed to collectively agree to take the first half of the week off from school, but on the day Billy and Max decided to officially return to normalcy, Billy stopped dead in front of the bathroom mirror.

His bruises were gone. The cut in his eyebrow was nothing but a scar now.

He supposed it was better this way. Less lies and stories to make up to answer nosey classmates, but this meant Steve must’ve _done something_.

Max noticed right away. Billy shook his head on his way to the fridge. “Not a word.”

She saved her response for when he parked in the school lot and they began to move in the separate directions of their schools. “You better thank him.”

He grimaced mildly at the back of her head as he stepped on his cigarette butt. Sure enough, Steve’s only proof of the weekend happening was a similarly split brow scar.

They didn’t interact. Even in gym, Billy played as he normally did without heckling Steve or taking him on directly, if he could help it. Steve went to a different shower stall. Billy almost laughed, _How considerate_ , since the effort of gallantry was moot after already having seen each other naked.

That leant food for thought, though. Soul mates? Or…what had Steve’s mom said…a soul bond? What did that even mean? _Cut from the same cloth,_ yeah okay. Useful information like how water is wet.

Billy sent a look in Steve’s direction on the way to his locker. He couldn’t deny that he and Steve were drawn to each other, but so many variables contributed to that. As Billy threw the school-regulated towel into the hamper and got dressed, he decidedly threw the variables with it. The past didn’t really matter so much as how the hell they were going to navigate each other going forward.

Frankly, they didn’t have to navigate anything—

Steve rounded the corner and opened his locker. His little shampoo bottle for the school showers had been one thing, but his locker was a miniature vanity cabinet. Billy properly looked over his shoulder and didn’t recognize any of it. No labels. When Steve stepped away to get toilet paper to dry his ears, Billy picked up something like deodorant and gave it a sniff.

He knew a Douglas Fir when he smelled one. Steve was really making himself smell like a freaking Christmas tree.

There was a roller ball of oil that Steve put on random places. Billy guessed it was a type of cologne, but then nobody else seemed to notice or care when he touched the roller ball to the tip of his nose, insides of his wrist, and tops of his collarbones.

Billy couldn’t help himself. “The hell is that?”

Steve looked at him like he’d spoken a different language. “Vanilla and black sugar.”

“How is black sugar different from normal sugar?”

Steve offered him the tube and Billy’s features were wiped clean. _Oh_. It smelled nice. Sweet and somehow…dark. Robust without being overwhelming, almost like coffee. There was something refreshing and spicy there that Billy couldn’t place.

“You trying to smell like a girl because you lost yours, Harrington?” someone taunted, but Billy didn’t think the aroma was particularly girly. If anything, it was a relief in itself that the fragrance sat in oil instead of alcohol.

“I have others.”

“You have a whole perfumery in there?” Billy jibed even though he stepped closer to the open locker.

Steve pulled out two roller balls. “Bergamot and lime. Grapefruit and whiskey. I like the vanilla and sugar in the winter, though.”

The first smelled like a margarita. The second confused Billy because it had the same darkness as the vanilla and black sugar. “Is there a point to these?”

“Not if you’re just going to give me shit.”

But Steve watched as Billy swiped a line of oil onto his own wrist. “Whatever. Keep that Christmas tree stuff to yourself.”

“Pine neutralizes body odor.”

“I have a finer appreciation for my odor.”

“Does everybody else, though?” Steve threw back, albeit under his breath.

Billy clicked his tongue as he sassed, “I never get complaints.”

“Only because you spend your money on expensive colognes. _Aramis_.”

Billy paused in stuffing his arms into his shirt before he pulled it over his head. “How do you know what I use?”

“I have a good nose.”

“You’re sounding like a creep again.”

“Says the guy who smells like me.”

Steve closed his locker and sauntered out of the room, leaving a mildly stupefied Billy behind. Until the latter quickly finished dressing and chased after him.

“I have a question.”

Steve paused and glanced at the vending machine at the end of the hallway. Billy followed him to the semi-private spot while Steve slotted quarters into the machine. Billy waved a finger over his face. “How do we look like this?”

Steve exhaled and sent his glare at the soda options before jabbing one of the buttons. “You know why.”

“Maybe,” Billy drawled as he leaned against the side of the machine, “I want to hear you say it.”

“I thought you wanted to be as far away from this as possible?”

The falling can was loud in the hallway, but the time it took Steve to retrieve it allowed a wave of classmates to leave the locker room.

“If you’re going to be casting spells over yourself—and therefore _me_ —I ought to know about it.”

Steve gave him a deadpan look and huffed at the can, which he couldn’t open yet without the risk of a mess. Billy stuck a leg out, Converse hitting the shin of Steve’s jeans to stop him from leaving. “What?”

This time, Steve met his gaze and held it. “What d’you mean, what? Can you even ask a question without making it sound like I’m the punch line? What are you asking? What do you want?”

“I want to know how you did it!” Billy fumed, and then realized how close they stood. He glanced down the empty hallway, sniffing and retreating a step.

Steve repeated flatly. “You want to know how I did it.”

Billy waved a hand underneath rolling eyes. “Why is that ridiculous?”

And then Steve took a _nail_ out of his jeans pocket—a goddamn nail—and punctured the can close to his mouth. Carbonation practically screamed in the deserted hallway, but Steve caught it inside his mouth. Billy lifted a brow, unsure what this display was. “You carry spare nails regularly?”

Once the explosion was contained, Steve lifted off the can and caught a burp inside his elbow. “Iron is useful to have around.” His eyes flicked over Billy’s shoulder to make sure they were alone. “Especially against…upside-down things. Certain things help keep stuff right-side up. Supposedly it’s why coins are made from metal.”

Billy’s eyes blew wide. “Okay. I never took you for a history guy. Is that why your mom went on about iron and…?”

“Ash. The baseball bat.”

“Yeah,” Billy rolled a finger in the air, “unpack that.”

Steve shifted his weight. “I mean…it’s not exactly an original idea, making a bat more lethal, but ash is used for furniture. Household stuff. You arm a…defense product with an offensive product—This is stupid.”

“No, I’m with you. Keep going. I’ll let you know when you’ve lost me.”

He heaved a breath and finished. “Magic can be like math. You put stuff together, and shit happens. Ash is…endurance and comfort and a defensive material. It makes shields and furniture—If you ever tell the twerps this, I’ll never get out of DnD nights.”

“Hush,” Billy scolded. “Keep going.”

“Iron, or modern steel, makes sharp stuff. Put the sharp stuff with the hard stuff: you’ve got yourself a weapon.”

“A magic one,” Billy added flatly.

“Against an enemy whose chemistry is the…uh, magical opposite of ours, sure. I know a nailed bat can take nearly anything down, but you didn’t see a demogorgon, so you don’t know how much the added advantage is. Don’t ask me about chemistry.”

“Fine. The dog things?”

Steve had attached his mouth to the can again, but now lifted wide eyes at him. “No. That’s a demodog. A demogorgon is bigger. A lot bigger.”

Billy stood up off the vending machine and crossed his arms. “How big?”

His eyes flicked down at Steve’s adams apple bobbing with a swallow. “Standing upright? Uh…eight-ish feet high? It kinda moves like a gorilla, but it stands up like us. Last year, Nancy filled one with bullets and it just acted like they were gnats bouncing off of it.”

“That tiny twig can fire a gun?”

A grin flashed on Steve’s face as he confirmed, “Yeah. Hopper gave her a rifle before you got there. You really missed a party.”

“Ha,” Billy remarked. “But it took a bat to stop it? Bullets have plenty of metal to them. Why didn’t they have any effect?”

For some reason, Steve hesitated to reply. He took the time to pop the tab of the can and carefully drink from it properly. “Um,” gulp, “that was another surprise last year. Turns out, I got some extra mojo. Dustin calls me a Paladin. He and Mike got into this whole thing about Paladin versus Ranger.”

Billy grimaced slightly. “Like a park ranger?”

Steve sighed, desperately wanting away from this subject. “It’s a DnD thing.”

“Then…like Tolkien? Lord of the Rings ranger?”

Steve gaped at him. Billy shrugged. “I read the first book. No idea what a Paladin is, though.”

After a heavy inhalation, Steve admitted, “I knew my mom had a hippie phase before she married, but I didn’t think anything more about it. Then everything happened and I learned a lot. Kinda wish I still didn’t know anything.”

Billy stared at him. “You healed your face overnight and you wish you didn’t know anything? Jesus.”

Steve’s gaze lifted and Billy looked away. He shrugged, “Lot of queers would want your perks.”

“Well, you have them now.” Steve threw the can into a nearby trash bin.

Billy frowned. “You say that as easily as your mom offering for me to move in.”

“Oh, she meant it. She keeps asking if you’re coming by or if I’m helping you pack. She’s relentless.”

“You’re not serious,” Billy scoffed and trailed beside him through the hallway.

“I’ll pretend I’m not carrying around a spare key for you, then.”

Billy had a short minute to gape at the house key Steve held between them. Then he cursed as Steve tucked it under the collar of his shirt. He caught the cold metal against his diaphragm.

“You can give it to Max, if you want.”

“Why the hell would I do that?” he barked at Steve’s strolling away.

He shrugged without looking back. “She’s not a buzz kill, and she’ll be queen of the nerds, if she isn’t already.”

Billy huffed something close to a laugh as he glanced at the key he extracted from his shirt. A tiny symbol had been crudely etched into it, just under the whole for a key ring. A little three-pointed crown.

“Or you can see for yourself how hippies party under the moonlight.”

As he watched Steve slot his hands into his jacket pockets, taking the corner of the hallway like he owned it, it wasn’t so hard to imagine Steve in his prior reign.

* * *

Billy waited until the weekend. He knocked on the door whereas the key remained in his pocket. Max was somewhere with her friends and Steve’s car sat in his driveway.

Steve answered the door with his sweatshirt sleeves rolled up and hands covered in flour. “Do you know how a key works?”

“ _Yes_ , I know how a key works, shithead.”

Steve pressed fingertips into his chest, leaving white marks. “I’m your soul mate. Be nice to me.”

“Are you letting me in or what? It’s freezing out here.”

Steve smiled and began walking back to the kitchen. “Yeah, we were due for a foot of snow yesterday. We’re gonna get obliterated by a blizzard whenever it lands.”

Billy shut the door and figured it would be in his best interests to remove his shoes. “How do you know?”

“Mom’s good at reading the weather. She’s gone until it passes.”

Billy’s snort devolved into an incredulous huff. “She just left you here? Or does she think she’s doing us a favor?”

“Probably,” Steve agreed as he returned to the crowded kitchen counter. “But she does like to be with dad in the city during snows. Plus he’d probably die with restaurants closed during the blizzard.”

The entire granite space was floured and laden with a baking sheet, cutting board, bags of ingredients, and bowls with dough proofing. And it all smelled _divine_.

“I didn’t take you for a baker.”

“It’s better than hovering over a stove. Don’t touch those. It’s next week’s pizza dough.”

Billy disobeyed and lifted the dishtowel off one of the glass bowls to see the dough within. “What’s in the oven now?”

“Cinnamon buns.”

Billy’s head snapped up, earning a smirk from Steve. “Wash your hands.”

“What if I say no?”

“Then the gallon of alfredo sauce my mom made before she left will be all mine. The wine too.”

Billy pressed his lips like a brat and put his coat on a kitchen chair. Pulling up his navy sweater sleeves, he washed his hands and—

Steve handed him a crudely mixed pile of dough. “I didn’t sign up for that.”

“Magic is exhausting and I need the calories. Do your part, honey.”

“Do. _Not_.”

But he was stuck kneading the dough for the pasta, and it proved far more labor-intensive than anyone talks about. “By the way…why the hell is it already Christmas in your house?”

“We don’t do Thanksgiving.”

“I would ask if you don’t like food, but I’m sweating over this.”

Steve hummed a reply while he stared at the pages of his mother’s cookbook. He reached past Billy for the dark bottle of vanilla extract, his chest brushing Billy’s shoulder. The obnoxious warmth that infused Billy’s core diffused against the nasty metal on metal sound of Steve whisking cinnamon bun frosting on the stove.

The buns made up for it, though.

So did the honey glazed bread rolls the following morning.

And the pasta alfredo that they ate well into the week because Billy had never felt more satisfied from food in his life.

“Dude, throw that in the washer,” Steve said, plucking Billy’s long-sleeve in passing while they piled dishes in the sink.

“You’re micro-managing my clothes now?”

“My honey’s not walking around smelling like soured milk.”

Billy heaved a sigh. “So help me Christ—”

“Mmf! Billy!”

Billy took advantage of Steve crouching for the dish detergent under the sink to capture him inside said shirt. Thick tuffs of dark hair stuck out of the collar to stroke Billy’s face as they toppled over the floor. Steve’s arms went around Billy’s waist as the latter straddled Steve onto the ground…

Until he realized winning wasn’t Steve’s goal.

“No no no! No!” Billy disintegrated into giggles as Steve managed to get the shirt up his back and almost off of Billy’s shoulders. One hard yank got Billy shirtless. “HEY!”

Steve took off through the house with Billy hot on his heels. They crashed into the laundry room, where in short order the shirt wound up in the washer, far too much detergent powder got dumped over it, and Steve realized too late that Billy’s rather light shirt now soaked with a lot of reds. “Uh. How do you feel about pink things? It’ll bring out your cheeks.”

“My cheeks?” he balked, only to wince the same time Steve hissed.

They looked at each other. Steve’s bravado vanished and he murmured, “Knees?”

Billy looked down, where his leg was clearly bleeding through the threadbare knee of his jeans. Steve exhaled, “Oh, shit.”

Billy scoffed, “A scraped knee, Steve. Don’t bunch your panties over it.”

Steve let that go and eased past him. “Come on. I’ll take care of it.”

Whatever expression Billy wore, it evaporated in favor of following Steve to the hallway half-bath. Peering around the glistening white tile and brass fixtures, he chose to comment on the cotton and hydrogen peroxide Steve was collecting. “Really? You’re not going to snap your fingers for me?”

Steve sent him a look through the mirror’s reflection, and Billy laughed back. “I have to disinfect it first. You gonna take your pants off or are you shy?”

“I’m already halfway naked. Might as well brag some more.”

“Can you not be yourself for a few minutes?”

“No,” Billy finished as he shoved his jeans to his ankles. Steve winced against the drag of denim over the open skin, inducing Billy to remind, “Hello? This means you’re bleeding too.”

Those large brown eyes blinked prettily. “Oh.”

Billy took the peroxide and moved past him to set his foot on the toilet seat. While he dabbed a soaked cotton pad over his knee, he said, “Explain why we’re disinfecting.”

“You don’t want to close the skin over gross shit. Agh…”

Billy looked at where Steve was much more carefully freeing his legs from his jeans. A line of red had nearly made it to his foot before he caught it with toilet paper, but Billy’s eyes had locked onto the reindeer boxer briefs.

“Aw. Rudolph.”

Steve’s head snapped up and Billy burst into laughter. “Relax. We’ve showered together.”

“That doesn’t count!”

“It counts. Because I know you’ve got a nice set.”

Steve very clearly looked stuck between nervous and wary. “Set of what?”

Billy taunted, “Ankles. Come on, I want to see what the universe married me to.”

“MARRIED?” Steve shrieked as Billy sauntered through the living room. He waited on the couch with his leg tucked against him, patting a paper towel against his knee until Steve finally showed up with stone bowl. A kind that Billy had not seen since California.

His lips parted. “Where in the world did you get that?”

“The kitchen supply store? I needed a tiny fire pit.”

Billy snorted, “Yeah, or to make guacamole. You burn things in that? You’d get beat to shit in California by someone’s abuela.”

Steve slouched. “Do you wanna go outside?”

“No.”

Shaking his head ruefully, Steve set a baking sheet down in front of the fireplace with the mortar standing on it. Opening the grate, he lit a short stick of wood on fire and set it in the bowl.

“What’s that?”

“Cedar.”

“What’s it do?”

“Smells nice.”

“ _Steve_.”

“ _Sit_ here,” he ordered, pointing beside him.

Billy slid off the couch and shuffled over to the fireplace. “This isn’t going to last long if you try bossing me around like that.”

“You know, you talk a lot of shit for someone wanting to see this. Do you want to heal the slow way?”

“I think I just want something else burned into my brain to replace those tunnels.”

The whispers of the fire filled the silence between them. Steve’s features softened. “I get that. Think of something you like.”

“Why?”

“Peter Pan. Think happy thoughts and magic activates.”

“Are you messing with me?”

“ _Billy_ ,” Steve purred, exhausted and begging.

“What am I supposed to think about? Sex?”

“I really don’t need those details.”

Billy leaned back to plant his hands behind him, the injured knee wagging in the air. “First being almost naked makes you bashful, and now you don’t want to talk sex with me? It really doesn’t make sense for the universe to pair you with a queer.”

“I’m not straight.”

Dark brows lifted over blue, water irises. Billy let that settle before he teased, “Do you think I’m sexy?”

“I think you’re obnoxious.”

Billy perhaps meant to kick him, but instead let his foot curve with Steve’s thigh and…rest there. “Really. What are we doing?”

Steve’s heavy brow bones made him look tired in the firelight. Billy could hear him swallow as his gaze wandered before he admitted, “I think you’re sexy.”

It wasn’t quite the answer Billy wanted, but something wild and warm perked up inside him—

Steve’s lips parted as if he were out of breath, like the air had suddenly been knocked out of him. As soon as Billy noticed, Steve clumsily recovered. “Your mouth gets in the way, though.”

“We have that in common,” Billy remarked, sitting up. “Yours runs away from you.”

A shy smile moved Steve’s mouth. “Only when I’m trying to…”

Billy had leaned forward so Steve’s breath stroked his lips. “I said don’t lie to me.”

The firelight only made Billy’s eyes even more _blue_. And…a little green, Steve realized. Those long lashes lowered with Billy peering between Steve’s swallow, his lips, his craving gaze. On a panting breath, he asked, “What do you want me to say?”

“I wanna know if you like me at all.”

“Against my better judgment, yeah.”

“Is it your better judgment that got me undressed?”

That little smirk. Billy was really starting to like it. “More like I like how you smell without spilled milk on your shirt.”

Billy's head shook gently. “What the hell is it going to take for you to kiss me, already—”

Steve’s hand tucked under his hair to cradle his jaw and neck the same moment soft, plush lips crushed against Billy’s. Steve immediately shuddered around a tiny moan at how soft Billy’s lips were…and Billy felt it all the way up his spine and back down.

He wanted more of it, and hungrily sought it. Pushing Steve’s mouth open, Billy made him moan anew as he pushed his hands into Steve’s hair and drew him forward. Steve let himself be pulled and put a hand on Billy’s leg, first just on his shin, and then his palm slid around to hold his calf. Billy stretched the leg around Steve and pulled, spreading his knees apart for Steve to crawl over him—

“Ow! What the—”

“Sorry! Sorry, I didn’t mean to do it that hard—”

“What did you do?” Billy exclaimed as he followed the already fading pain to his knee…which was as unblemished as if he’d never scraped it. Then it dawned on him.

“What? _What?_ I _missed it_?”

“Isn’t this better?” Steve wondered.

“No, it’s not better! You distracted me—What did you do?”

Steve was already halfway in his lap, though, and he prowled even further over him. Billy lowered onto his elbows before he meant to. “I thought about you. And how I hope you’ll let me like you.”

He kissed the corner of Billy’s mouth. “And how there are too many things to do on our knees.”

Lips moved over Billy’s cheek, making his eyes go hooded. “I hoped you weren’t allergic to gluten because it’s literally all I know how to cook.”

“And if I was?” Billy goaded.

“We’d be really screwed in the blizzard,” Steve laughed nervously, kissing the side of his nose and forcing his eyes to shut.

“You’re so goddamn lucky you’re pretty.”

Steve laughed against his mouth, catching every kiss Billy gave him and more. He framed Billy’s head with his forearms when he reclined on the floor, groaning as Billy pulled on his bottom lip with his teeth. He retaliated with rutting his pelvis once over Billy’s, earning a loud, bursting sigh.

“So you’ll stay?” Steve whispered between kisses against his neck.

“Yeah,” Billy panted. “Fuck. Yeah. I’ll stay.”

His deep inhalation lifted Steve with his chest, making him giggle and come back up for his mouth. He moaned into the soft, chaste, but no less intimate pecks while Billy’s hands stroked up and down Steve’s spine. He followed the curve of his lumbar over the hill of his ass and back up to his shoulder blades.

Steve trembled ever so slightly, their lips parting long enough to see the effect Billy had on him through Steve’s features as well as…

“Steve, do you feel that?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Is this how it’s always going to be?”

Brown eyes searched his. “I don’t know.”

“Well I hope so,” he finished, pulling him back by the nape—

Pounding on the front door startled their mouths apart, but it only made Billy’s erection fill out more to see Steve glare in the direction of the door instead of making haste to get off Billy. If anything, Steve pressed himself even more over him.

The visitor pounded again, this time with more than one fist.

“Steve!” came Dustin’s muffled voice. “Steve! Get out here! It’s snowing!”

“We’ve got sleds!” said the quieter, but no less present voice of Will Byers.

Billy groaned as he made eye contact with Steve. “I’m gonna kill ‘em.”

He laughed breathily. “They can’t come inside unless El’s with them—”

Blue and brown eyes shot wide open the same time the Harringtons’ deadbolt clapped out of the way. They took off at record speed for the laundry room.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm tempted to add a part 2, just to make the rating go up to Explicit lol keep the holiday cheer going ~ But for now, I feel like I planted enough detail to write a whole multi-chapter fic U_U It's long enough, it's a little scattered, but I hope you enjoyed!! Happily Holidays <333


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